Erl Purnell Sermon

Bicentennial Celebration of Old St. Andrew’s Church Building ~ October 14, 2007 ~ A sermon preached by The Rev’d Erl G. Purnell at Old St. Andrew’s Church, Bloomfield, CT

Ephesians 4.17-32; Matthew 9.1-8

“How lovely is thy dwelling place, O Lord of hosts, to me!
My thirsty soul desires and longs within thy courts to be;
my very heart and flesh cry out, O living God, for thee.”
(Hymn 517, 1^st verse – paraphrase of psalm 84)

Dear Friends in Christ, greetings and peace in the name of our Lord and Savoir Jesus Christ. Alleluia. Alleluia. The Holy Spirit is among us. This is the day the Lord hath made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Let us pray.

As we gather this morning in this thy dwelling place, O Lord, entreat us to remember, to give thanks, to bless, and to promise; for where we sit is a holy place. We are your servants, continuing the traditions of our forbearers and asking for your grace in our own generation. Amen.

As the Psalmist teaches us in the 84^th Psalm of King David,

Yea, the sparrow hath found an house,
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may lay her young,*

Blessèd are they that dwell in thy house:*
they will be still praising thee.

And so it is, my Friends, that 200 years ago this house was hewn and pegged together, sheathed and roofed. It was not much like what we see today. Certainly no bell tower, no stained glass windows (too Roman), no carpet, no reredos, no communion rail, no lamps, not even candles on the altar. I doubt the ceiling rose as nobly as this. The carpentry details—dental molding, beautiful boxed columns, and even the Palladian windows—were most likely added later, too. This house was probably quite simple when it was constructed in 1807, two miles down Duncaster Road, where Terry Plains Road crosses.

No matter. The vision and intent of those who took on the task of building this new worship house is clearly evident. For, they sought a nest where they could raise their young and raise an Episcopal Church family in their own time … and for the future.

The challenge was huge. But, raising the significant amounts of money to pay for the building seems not to have been the biggest challenge. What was difficult was finding common ground among the congregation. Some favored staying in the old worship house; others wanted to build a new church next to the burial ground; still others argued to put the new structure at the crossroads of travel over the mountain from Simsburytown to Wintonbury. Details of the disagreement are lost in the dust of 20 decades. It’s probably just as well. Suffice it to say, one group prevailed and the others did not. The new St. Andrew’s was built away from here, at the crossroads.

Was that the first disagreement within our parish family? No. Nor was it the last. But somehow, through thick and thin, often with help from the outside, always with help from the Holy Spirit, we’ve manage to stand in the light and move forward with integrity. The myriad conflicts the people of St. Andrew’s Parish have faced and overcome speaks to the abiding commitment people have made to fostering and living in the Spirit of Christ here and beyond.

The which is to say, we are a family, always changing and growing, coming and going, learning, loving, living and dying. Young families of yesteryear raised this building and then they raised their children in it, they grew old and died, leaving their legacy to others who have done the same for generations.

I was struck on last Sunday when David LaBau spoke about the church school having 127 children in the 1960s. As I looked across the gray heads in the Parish Hall and thought also of some of who weren’t present, I saw those young parents—the Hyatts, LaBaus, and Trasks, the Hubbards, Alleys, St. John’s, the Ahrens, Washburns, Phillips, and Clarks, the Thorntons, McCombs, Danzolls, Storrs, Sutherlands and people I’ve overlooked or didn’t even know—now seniors themselves. The beat goes on. They have left their legacy; you and I are leaving ours at this very moment.

Without going into the details, in 1828, the Vestry and members of the parish made the decision to remove this very building from its location two miles from here, and to bring it home to the old burial ground site. It must have been a monumental task. But, creative engineering, strong oxen, and time were on their side. This church—our church—was put on foundation stones that continue to support the building and the parish today. And, you can count on them being here tomorrow.

You know the old hymn—we just sang it.

How firm a foundation,
ye saints of the Lord,
is laid for your faith
in his excellent word!

It goes on.

I’ll strengthen thee, help thee,
and cause thee to stand,
upheld by my righteous,
omnipotent hand. (Hymn 637)

The hymn reminds us that God’s grace is sufficient. In other words, God’s grace is all we need, if only we will open our hearts and never, no, never, no never forsake.

And so, let me repeat myself, the foundation that is St. Andrew’s Church is as sure today as it was in 1828 when this building was laid upon it.

In metaphoric and poetic beauty, our foundation stones also silently stand in the burial ground. The voices beneath them, who spoke with timber or maybe softness, so long ago, upheld their faith in prayer and extraordinary deeds during their days. We would not, we could not be here today had they not ensured the foundations remained firm through their hard work and generosity, especially in death. The Charles Case Trust guarantees our cemetery will be cared for in perpetuity; the Adelea Millea bequest of $800,000 in 1996 is the foundation of our endowment, which is, after eleven years, valued at about $1.6 million.

So far, most of what I’ve said this morning is about what our St. Andrew’s ancestors have done—building and then moving this beautiful building, being faithful in worship, giving generously of their time and talent and treasure. I’m just now touching on what we might do so that the future of our beloved church can never, no never be in doubt. We have so much for which to be thankful, don’t we?

My question is simple: What will we do with the bounty—the abundance— that God has entrusted to us in our times? Will we too leave money to our church so those reading this sermon in 2107 can say, “Yes, they included St. Andrew’s in their will and thanks to them for doing so!”?

In the past month, I have spoken with about six or eight parishioners about leaving a bequest to Old St. Andrew’s. So far, I have a list of seven “families” or individuals who plan to do so. In the coming months I look forward to calling on each of you to ask if you might not also make a gift to your church in your will. If you already have made provision for OSA in your will, I would appreciate knowing that—not the amount or percentage, just that you have named the church in your will. To repeat something I said the other day, “Remember: you can’t take it with you; but you can send it on ahead.” That’s certainly what Charles Case, Adelea Millea, Gert Kaiser, Jack Davis, and many, many more have done. Thanks to them and, I trust, thanks to you, too.

Which brings me to say something about our life together in 2007. We are so much the Body of Christ. There is no greater compliment I can offer than to say “We are the Body of Christ.”

By that, I mean we are a parish church that is knit together in fellowship and love. We are also connected to our community and the world. We enjoy and share communion with our bishops—Andrew, Laura, and James—, the other churches in the Diocese of Connecticut, the Episcopal Church, and the world-wide Anglican Communion. Although these relationships—like all relationships—sometimes come upon rough patches, our intention is always to serve Christ in others.

Consider what we have and are doing with our dear friends Jean-Elie and Mona Millien at l’École le Bon Samaritain in Haiti, the Hispanic Mission in Hartford, and through the personal outreach of so many of us in small and not-so-small ways. Just read the Crier each month for some poignant examples: The Mayes’ work in the Auer Farm Food Share gardens; Shirley Greiman with the ECW at OSA and State-wide; Lorraine Taylor and Barbara Bell’s taxi service on Wednesdays; Liz Miller and Robin Gronbeck’s musicals; the Powell’s work in Nepal, Viet Nam, and China; Gretchen LaBau, Jane Gottshalk and Phyl Ahrens who make our banners; or even, Betsy Rich who writes these Crier articles.

It’s remarkable to think of the impact we have on the world. And certainly there is more we can and should do. Chiefly, we are called to live consciously as the Body of Christ, daring to be bold in accepting that commission.

Moreover and ever-so importantly, we are to strive to be compassionate, even when it doesn’t come automatically or quickly. To forgive, even when another may not accept your reaching out; or to accept forgiveness, even when you’re terribly hurt…because that’s what Jesus asks of us. To stand in the fire and walk in the street by way of insisting on justice, not sometimes, but always, even when it is unpopular.

And yes, loving. To love family, friends, and neighbors, those who are like us and those who are different—people of different faiths, different customs and cultures, different languages and accents, different skin colors and body type, women and men, the young and the old. Loving with an open and inclusive heart; welcoming all people to the Table; abdicating the need to be right, and instead, deciding to be loving.

Now thank we all our God,
with hands and hearts and voices,
who wondrous things hath done,
in whom his world rejoices;
who from our mother’s arms
hath blessed us on our way
with countless gifts of love,
and still is ours today.

And so we end our service this morning with this gracious hymn by Martin Rinckart. Listen some more.

O may this bounteous God
through all our life be near us!
with ever joyful hearts
and blessèd peace to cheer us;
and keep us in his grace,
and guide us when perplexed,
and free us from all ills
in this world and the next.

All praise and thanks to God
the Father now be given,
the Son, and him who reigns
with them in highest heaven,
eternal, Triune God,
whom earth and heaven adore;
for thus it was, is now,
and shall be ever more. (Hymn 397)
Let us pray.

Gracious God, let our thoughts and prayers and actions strengthen and unify us for the well being of our common life together; and help us to remember that it is only from your abundant Love that we are blessed with all that we have and who it is we are and can be.

Amen.